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Thursday, March 08, 2012

Catch the Worm

It was an invaluable lesson, but at that hour of the morning, I did not want a lesson. I wanted desperately to sleep. Oh Lord, I would do anything for sleep. The last thing I wanted to hear at that ungodly hour were diatribes about early birds and worms.

It was the late 1960s, and I needed a summer job. Unemployment was at record highs, and there were no jobs. So my father was able to arrange a summer job with his construction company. There was, however, a small hitch. It was located nearly 20 miles from home, he worked nights, and I had no vehicle. We were able to find someone in town who was traveling to work in the mornings to one of the companies' other facilities. So, this meant 3 rides - the first to the man's home, then a ride with him to one company location, and finally, a ride with a truck driver going to my final destination. This series of rides required getting up early. Real early.

My ride with the older man was torturous. I tried to nap, which he found comical and amusing. His need to lecture prevented me from sleeping. I was a captive audience with no options but to listen, struggling to keep my eyes open. The only thing I remember is his admonition that EARLY BIRD CATCHES THE WORM. But I was not an early bird, saw no value in being one, and had no interest in worms. Let others have the worms. Please, TAKE ALL THE WORMS AND LET ME SLEEP.

Much later in life, I came to learn the value of being an early riser and the joy in that quiet time before the morning rush. Although in a city like New York, there are certainly different styles, I also began to see rising early as one of the traits of the aggressor and as one key to many's success.

Growing up in New England, I was certainly blessed with an array of bird species. However, the aggressors made themselves most well-known - crows, starlings, sparrows, and bluejays. But in New York City, in the harsh, competitive environment, the aggressors and survivors dominate.

Here, many of the birds which I see most commonly are the aggressors that I saw growing up in the countryside: starlings, sparrows, pigeons, and the occasional crow. However, today is the first time I recall ever seeing a bluejay in New York City. Bluejays are noisy and notorious trouble makers. They are aggressive to humans and other birds, which they have been known to attack or kill. They also have a reputation as thieves, stealing the eggs, chicks, and nests of other birds. Sounds like the character traits of many New Yorkers.

Diligent birders keep logbooks of their sightings. My logbook is one of aggressors and survivors and includes salesmen making cold calls, lawyers, real estate brokers, investment bankers, street hustlers, businessmen, rats, pigeons, squirrels, cockroaches, and those who look well -uited and/or have adapted for city life. Today, I round out my collection of sightings with the bluejay.

Be it birds, plants, animals, or people, the meek do not inherit New York's earth, only the aggressors and survivors. On April 9, 2006, I wrote New York Survivor about the London Planetree, a good example of a survivor in New York City's Sieve of Darwin. It was, appropriately, on a London Planetree, that this morning I sighted my first bluejay and that he, like New York's other aggressors, was up early, ready to Catch the Worm :)

2 comments:

Mary P
said...

There seems to be a pair of them living in the ivy covered tree on the WSP side of #2 5th. Raucous, aren't they?

When I was a tiny child, my grandfather used to hold us on his lap to look at the wildlife frequenting our back yard in Queens. (Not to mention all the cats that lived there also.) Rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, sparrows, starlings and prettiest of all, bluejays. Our neighbor, who raised chickens, parakeets and canaries at various times in our lives, once rescued and raised an orphan bluejay.

He let me be his assistant because I was the first to spot the baby chicks that hatched after they had gone on vacation and were unable to collect the eggs from the chickens for some days. I was around 8 years old, and it gave me a lifelong interest.